


Houston, We Have Potatoes

by Zoya1416



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types
Genre: Advertising, Gen, Humor, Lots of Potatoes, Morning talk shows, Potatoes, Rick Martinez talks too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: It was inevitable that someone would find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As per the original source, Mark Watney uses a LOT of F-words

It was inevitable.

The Ares 3 crew were giving another round of interviews to a Houston morning talk show. Minus Mark—he was visiting his parents. How it happened they could never quite say, but the culprit was clearly Rick. One minute the interviewer was asking about their favorite foods, (whyyy?) and the next:

RM: You know, before the mission, Mark was the go-to guy for potatoes.

Interviewer: What! No one has ever said that before.

RM: Yeah, he was always checking out thrillist and foursquare. And dishtip. He loved dishtip.

CB:Do you remember the baked potato challenge? He took us to Pappas Bar-B-Q for lunch and Cue's the same night, and had us vote on them. Pulled pork won out at Pappas.

RM: Yeah, but the ones at Cue's are bigger.

BJ: (dreamily) Rodeo Chicken sandwich and the chicken stuffed baked potato, mmm, Beck's.

RM: Beck? Beck made you potatoes? (laughs.)

BJ: No, idiot, you know I meant Beck's Prime.

IN: So Mark Watney loves baked potatoes. Amazing.

CB: Oh, it wasn't just baked. He had a soft spot for mashed, too. He would go to Saint Dane's, or Max's... 

ML: Barry Simmon's—the fried chicken with gluten-free mashed potatoes is delicious!

CB: You ate gluten on the mission. 

ML:Shut up, Chris.

AV:He loved _Kartoffelsalat_ better, though.

RM:What? German potato salad! That's heresy.

AV:(smugly) He liked mine. My wife has a secret recipe.

BJ:You think he liked your potato salad? (scoffs) _I_ made him potato salad. With red onions, carrots, and legumes. Wine vinegar and mayonnaise.

CB: That was from Reggae Hut and you know it! You brought it when we grilled that time—you brought salmon, too, remember?

BJ:Busted. But he did like it.

ML:(sighs happily) I _did_ make Mark potato soup, though. And he loved it.

RM: Your potato soup sucks!

ML: Martinez, I outrank you, I said he loved it.

BJ:Um, we ate at Saltgrass once, and he was pretty fond of theirs.

ML:I've been there. Mine is better.

CB: Panera's. Baked potato soup in a bread bowl. Remember? He said he loved that soup and wanted to have its babies.

IN:Really?

RM:Yeah, but guys, be honest. Mark really gave it up for the breakfast tacos. If I'd had a dollar for every time he dragged me to a new place to check their tacos...we debated Villa Arcos and Taqueria Laredo, but only when my wife couldn't hear. She loves breakfast tacos, and made some mean ones, but she couldn't stand them when she was pregnant. 

AV:(unexpectedly)We don't have French fries in Germany, but Mark persuaded me to try some. Astonishing. All that grease, I didn't think I would like it at all, but I did. I think I liked Burger Guys best.

RM:Burger Guys? They have salted caramel, cabron. Come on, man, nobody eats salted caramel on fries, that's weird...

CB (interrupting) I do. And I like their chipotle aioli. Although I always thought their source board was pretentious. Who cares what farm in Idaho grew them?

IN:So what you are saying is that Mark's the Bubba Gump of potatoes.  
(Silence)

RM: But look, that was before, I mean he can't stand them now, and he certainly wouldn't go to those places and eat their potatoes again. 

BJ:(angrily)He won't advertise for them, and that's that.

IN:Thank you for these special insights into our favorite botanist. I know the studio audience loved this.

ALL (silently) We're doomed.

xxxxx  
Fifteen minutes later:

Group message text from Mark Watney:

What the fuck! You fuckheads just told everyone about my potato fetishes and I fucking hate you! 

ML:Sorry. I was the commander of the interview. We didn't mean to abandon you. And, admit it, you loved my potato soup more than anything.

MW: Fuck your potato soup! I was lying. It's really Panera's. The station has already called me about this. I hate you all.

RM:I can put you in the way of some excellent breakfast tacos since she's cooking them again.

xxxxxx  
Fifteen minutes later.

MW:Fine. But you have to make the salsa with Naga chiles in it.

RM:Any time, man.  
End of text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the information on Houston restaurants comes from google, and I don't know them personally. They do sound yummy, though.  
> There really is a Beck's Prime. 
> 
> Also sherlakur points out that they have _oddles_ of French fries in Germany. It just must be that Vogel has an unusually restricted diet until Mark seduces him. :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was also inevitable.

It was also inevitable.

The NASA lawyer glared at the Ares 3 astronauts. (Minus Mark—he hadn't been in on this catastrophe.)

“You were warned. It's in your contracts. You can't advertise as an astronaut. You could all be terminated—what were you _thinking?_ "

The last part was said in a high wail. The damage had been done and it was far, far too late to round up the horse.

Within two days of the fatal talk show interview, new advertisements were springing up all over Houston. They quoted the talk show lines in all media—online, TV, radio, even the few print newspapers and magazines still left. From burger joints to the top restaurants, the crew's potato preferences were blasted over and over again. The food store lawyers had been very careful. Since Mark Watney had not given any opinions of his own, the talk show comments about him were hearsay. But the others—they'd hung themselves out to dry, in public.

It got worse. In the first cycle, only the establishments directly mentioned blew out ads. By the third day, restaurants, bars, low eateries and top tier ones, had gone one more step. It was Rick Martinez who suffered the most, which was justice.

“Rick Martinez says the Las Chiladas breakfast tacos are the best.”

“Rick Martinez says the Mi Tierra's breakfast tacos are the best.”

“Rick Martinez says the Alamo Cafe's breakfast tacos are the best.”

The eateries—all of them—used the image of an astronaut in an EVA suit on Mars, face obscured by the brassy reflection in the face plate—but not the actual image of the Ares 3 Rick. No, they'd all lined up their own spokesmen, or even women, and the 100 Rick, Richard, Ricardo, and even Ricki Martinez's in Houston had been picked to sponsor this or that place.

“Hey, tio, it's not illegal,” said the same-named nephew of the original Rick. “It's funny, and we get a good piece of change.”

“We?” moaned Rick. 

“Yeah, I tweeted everyone, and all the RMs they knew contacted their favorite place. It's fun, yeah?”

“So you started this? I'm going to kill you, sobrino. NASA is breathing down my neck.”

“Shouldn't have said it then.” 

It spiraled down,with each astronaut's namesake, and the favorites they'd blurted out, in constant rotation.

The women especially suffered, due to the still-unequal crassness of human nature. Melissa Lewis took hits for “I outrank you, Martinez, and I said he loved it," with lewd comments on who 'he' and 'it' was. Beth suffered the most, as her line about the chicken stuffed baked potato at Beck's was twisted into dirty comments on talk shows about how much Chris Beck must have loved doing the stuffing. The two started having regular coffeehouse meets to complain. Melissa threatened to take down a Starbucks barista who thought it was cute to sprinkle dried potato flakes on their lattes.

Recipes were circulated, frozen foods and dried foods created, and even fresh vegetables such as red onion, carrots, and legume surged ahead in popularity in the next weeks.

The kicker came when Alex Vogel stomped into the HEB nearest him and demanded to see the deli manager, and then the manager. He didn't convince them that “Alex Vogel's mother's secret recipe for Texas _Kartoffelsalat_ ” was a lie, as in fact a good chunk of Texas just west in the Hill Country had been colonized by Germans, who continued to cook the foods their ancestors had loved.

“Sir,” the manager said, “We respect your dedication and the courage you showed on the Ares 3 Mission. Nonetheless, Mr. Vogel from Gruene and his mother contacted us about this special dish they'd always shared, and we're happy to celebrate it.”

The deli manager, a 25 year old whose ponytail would have touched his waist if he hadn't kept it braided and wrapped under his hairnet, chirped in, “Yeah, hey, y'all cost us taxpayers a big chunk of government change with the mission extension, so it's only fair you make up some of it. Bottom line's the bottom line, right?”

Vogel gave him a filthy look. The manager gave him a filthy look. The deli manager was in the back doing prep by his next shift. 

NASA lawyers continued to talk to the Ares 3 team, reviewing all points of their contracts, in case they felt like violating any more.

Mark, of course, refused to comment at all on the debacle, except to troll his mission members with ever more ridiculous examples he'd seen.

“So what's on the fucking Pretentious Board today, Chris?” Burger Guys had changed the title of their source listing sign to the Pretentious Board almost as soon as the interview had finished.

Chris had had enough. “Mark, you're an asshole.”

The next day a group text went out:

MW:WTF Rick you told Pepper Joe growers about Naga chiles you fuckhead. Im their bitch now

RM: Wasn't me bro, but suck my dick. Payback happens

MW: Fuck you fucking fuckhead dipshit!!

RM:You still coming over in the morning? We have venison tacos.

MW:Sure, fuckhead, whatever. I've got the Carolina Reapers I grew. 600,000 more Scoviles than the Naga, so suck on that.

RM: :O It's on, mijo—bring it.

**Author's Note:**

> All the information on best potatoes in Houston comes from google. There really is a Beck's Prime in Houston. However, I know nothing about these restaurants and am not endorsing them. They do sound yummy, though...
> 
> Also sherlakur points out that they have _oodles_ of French fries in Germany! It must just be that Vogel has an unusually rigid diet or something until Mark seduces him. :-)


End file.
